


in a dream

by JaneScarlett



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5555483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneScarlett/pseuds/JaneScarlett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had a nagging sense that something was going to change - even before the gramophone began to skip, his tea fell over, and a mysterious, curly-haired archaeologist walked into his TARDIS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unexpected events

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Sarah utterly for encouraging me to write this fic.
> 
> Set right at the end of the 1996 movie. Title from Pat Hodges' song: 'In a Dream'.

There was a cup of tea on the side table and H.G. Wells’ _Time Machine_ to read; so the Doctor settled back onto the plush seat of his arm chair, resting his feet on the ottoman with a small sigh as he listened to Pat Hodge crooning on the gramophone.

Only this one task to complete and then he’d be free to do as he pleased. The coordinates had been set -the TARDIS was now en route to Gallifrey- and he knew logically that he could relax… except, he’d thought the same thing before. A lifetime ago, literally… though, to a Time Lord, the word _lifetime_ was entirely subjective.

Still, he’d been in exactly the same scenario at the end of his Seventh regeneration; and quite a mess had come from that little interlude. The Master breaking free – him dying in a hospital in Los Angeles and regenerating into his Eighth self – the hasty work to close the Eye of Harmony. It wasn’t as though all that could happen again; but he had a nagging sense of trepidation that something was coming. Not necessarily catastrophe or calamity…

Simply something unexpected. One more interlude before his real life picked up again.

“Perhaps I’ve become superstitious in this regeneration?” the Doctor mused. “Why, it’s as though I’m seeking patterns, like a human would.” He forced out a small laugh at his foolishness. There really _was_ no need to worry. Nothing was going to happen.

But he had just reached out his hand to his tea cup when he noticed. The liquid inside had begun swirling, round and round and round...

“Oh no,” breathed the Doctor, eyeing it in alarm. On the gramophone, Pat Hodge’s smooth voice stuttered as the record began to skip.

_“Time – time – time –“_

“Not again!” The Doctor’s hearts sank. This had happened before, too… He had just turned his head to check that the box with the Master’s remains was still locked when three things happened simultaneously.

His tea cup fell, spilling its contents all over the floor but remarkably not shattering.

The TARDIS paused, hovering mid-flight as the destination coordinates blanked.

And the doors burst open.

The Doctor was already on his feet, long legs striding quickly to the time rotor to check what had happened this time, when he realised he wasn’t alone in the TARDIS anymore. There was a thing standing in the doorway… no, a person closing the doors again… no, he corrected himself once more as she pushed back her hood, a _woman_ walking in with as much ease as if she owned his ship.

There was a small purse hanging off one arm, and a wide leather band on the opposite wrist; but beyond that, if asked, he couldn't have said what she looked like. She was filthy. Her clothing might have been any colour beneath the grime, her face was coated with smudges of dust, and particles of black sand and grit showered down from her hair as she moved. 

The Doctor stared at her, fascinated. Surprised and concerned too… but mostly fascinated. She wasn’t looking at him though. Her attention was focused on the band on her wrist.

“Sorry about hijacking your signal just now,” she said, “but you know how it goes. You ought to check your voice mail; it’s full again. And since I needed some help, I thought I’d just stop by... except that I think that something is off with this.” She continued frowning at her bracelet, which was emitting an ominous amount of smoke. 

“Were you fooling with it, again?”

“I don’t believe so,” the Doctor said cautiously.

“But you always say that,” she muttered, “even when we both know that you have been. I’ve told you, it doesn’t need additional sensors.”

“Perhaps one or two wouldn’t hurt? Just so that you know where you’re going,” suggested the Doctor.

“Unlike you, I don’t make mistakes with my navigation.” She sounded exasperated now. “I _know_ where I’m going, sweetie.” She swore beneath her breath –in Mesopotamian, unless the Doctor was mistaken- as she fought to undo the buckle, finally managing to yank the bracelet from her wrist.

And then she raised her head, a smile on her lips as she was about to speak… until she saw him properly and froze, eyes wide with surprise. In the absence of anything better to do, he nodded at her; tucking his hands in his trouser pockets, tilting his head down to survey her.

“Hello,” said the Doctor. The woman kept staring at him. The smile had slid straight off her face by this time. 

“If you're finished accusing me of something I haven't done,” he added calmly, “may I ask? It's only that I believe you called me... sweetie?” 

He waited, politely. Her jaw was working, her mouth opening and closing; but producing no sound beyond a strangled groan... then again, it might have been a word. Something with a lot of drawn-out vowel sounds. Oops or no or huh; the Doctor couldn’t quite tell.

“Is that what you call everyone whose TARDIS you break into?”

Her eyes darted from his to take in the console, the walls and back again, going wider by the moment. They were beautiful eyes, a lovely shade of green. No, blue. No, _both_. The colour fluctuated as the Doctor watched. Fascinating; he loved mysteries and her eyes seemed full of them. Not one colour but two. Not to mention the intelligence and complete lack of fear and a certain amount of dismay tempered with a tiny spark of amusement...

“Or perhaps it’s only me?” he continued, rather enjoying himself. “Am I your sweetie?”

She made the sound again. He could catch the words in it this time. I hate him. She’d been speaking Gallifreyan; no wonder the TARDIS hadn’t translated before. Funny he hadn't identified it, but then again...

“You have a very interesting dialect,” said the Doctor. The woman swallowed, managing a sickly smile in response.

“My… tutor has a Scottish accent.”

“Scottish and speaks High Gallifreyan? That’s quite interesting.”

“He’s an interesting man. An idiot who should keep his hands off my vortex manipulator, but yes, very interesting. And I’m sorry because I shouldn’t be here. I miscalculated, you see.” She held out her still-smoking bracelet. “Wrong coordinates.”

“Time or space?” challenged the Doctor.

She bit her lip. “Let’s just say wrong coordinates and leave it at that.”

“No, that won't do. If you don't mind me saying, that takes the fun out of it. Because I think you mean the wrong time.”

“Oh, well…” She shrugged, casting a surreptitious glance back at the doors that he didn't miss.

“It's not everyone who can walk into my TARDIS without setting off alarms. And you don't seem surprised to be here. You didn't even say it!”

Her eyes met his for a moment, her lips quirked up at the corners. “I hardly need to.”

“Most people do. Oh please, come on,” wheedled the Doctor. “For me?”

“You've redecorated,” she replied, straight-faced. “I don't like it.”

He sighed. “That not what I meant.”

“But I already know it's bigger on the inside. Must I say it?”

“You just have. And thank you.”

“You do always like that part,” she murmured, almost to herself.

“I do, yes. Dirty woman?”

Her mouth fell open. “What?”

“Well, I'm the Doctor, and,” he continued, trying to sound stern and not delighted by the charm of this turn of events, “I think you know that? But you've been remiss. I don't know your name.”

“And you thought to go with _Dirty Woman_?” 

“Aren't you?”

“In so many ways, sweetie.” She was still frowning, but her voice sounded decidedly amused by now.

“Well?” prompted the Doctor. “I don't imagine you're going to enjoy it if I keep calling you that. So you might as well give me your name... and have we met before? It's been a busy few days for me. Difficult regeneration this time; quite a bit of amnesia.”

“Amnesia. Of course. You do make a habit of that this go round...” For some reason her face seemed a bit more relaxed, faint laugh lines etching themselves in the dirt smudged on her cheeks, around her eyes.

“You can call me River.”

“Very nice,” said the Doctor approvingly. “Were you named that because of your eyes? The colour fluctuates so... a river sparkling beneath the sun would have nothing on their beauty.”

River began laughing. The Doctor wasn't certain why; he had been completely honest. But she was giggling, one hand pressed to her mouth in the vain attempt to hide her mirth.

“It must be the outfit,” she said when she could finally get words out. “Maybe the velvet made you a poet?

“But no,” she added, finally sobering. “That's not why I'm called that. Live long enough and you can acquire a variety of names.”

“Or grow into them.”

“Exactly,” said River. “Sweetie.”

* * *

In the end, he felt he had to say it. He wasn't opposed to dirt, but the amount falling off River every time she moved was alarming, and combined with the strange scorched smell on her skin…

“You know,” said the Doctor, “there are ten bathrooms in the TARDIS-“

“Twelve,” River corrected him.

“Showers and tubs big enough for three-“

“Or more,” murmured River, smirking.

“So it would be fine if you avail yourself of one of them. No, really; I insist. You'll feel so much better after a bath. And I'm curious to know what you look like beneath all that dirt... were you rolling in it?”

“Digging,” River answered. The Doctor nodded, obviously waiting for more explanation. With a sigh, River obliged.

“On an excursion. Excavation of the lost colony of Yurnef.”

“Excursion. Excavation...” His smile drooped. “Are you...?”

“An archaeologist?” Her eyes were dancing in barely suppressed amusement and the Doctor sighed.

“You _are_.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” But she didn't sound sorry. She didn't _look_ sorry with those gleeful eyes and lazy smirk.

The Doctor sighed again. “I'll live with it.”

“You will,” River said. Her words seemed like a promise, somehow. “Despite what you think of us, you have a certain soft spot for archaeologists. And on that note, I will take you up on your kind offer of a shower.

“Unless,” she paused, teasingly, “you can't bear to have a clean archaeologist roaming your TARDIS?”

“Better than a dirty one.”

Her laughter trailed behind her as she walked out of the room; and the Doctor paused, listening for the sound of her footsteps walking unerringly toward a bathroom, the click of the door closing and then the faint murmur of running water.

No hesitation; she knew exactly where she was going. Meaning...

Meaning, she knew the schematics of the TARDIS. This TARDIS. _His_ TARDIS.

So, who was she? He hadn’t missed that she’d introduced herself by first name only. And deliberately not answered the question if he knew her.

“What can you tell me?” he whispered, fingers lightly stroking the console. “I set you to scan her…”

His blue eyes narrowed as he watched the text blink across the screen.

_Classified._

“Is _she_ classified? Or her background? Is she from Gallifrey, with that funny dialect?” He smiled, shrugging. “We’re not known for archaeologists in our ranks. Defeats our general purpose of time travel. And she doesn’t seem like a Time Lord; though I suppose some would say, neither do I.”

He typed in ‘River’ and ‘archaeology’ to search the TARDIS databanks, and managed only to pull up results of excavations in various river valleys across the Universe. He looked in the student rosters of the Gallifrey Academies; even though he knew that was a fruitless task. If she was Gallifreyan -if she'd been to one of the Academies- River could have been called any number of things... because what had she said? _Live long enough and you can acquire a variety of names._ It wasn’t as though _he’d_ always been the Doctor, after all. Once upon a time at the Prydon Academy, there had been a little boy called Theta…

The Doctor sat back down in his armchair, fingers tapping restlessly against his knee. His regeneration-based amnesia was quite inconvenient. It would be a pity if he’d just let someone dangerous waltz into his TARDIS without blinking; but she didn’t seem dangerous. Yet she also didn’t seem like someone that he knew. Something about her… the way her lips curved into a smile, the light in her eyes.

River seemed like someone he would remember. _Should_ remember.

“Temporal grace,” he said aloud, directing his words to the console. “And if she was a danger to us, you’d have her locked away. She’d never find her way out of the shower.” 

In fact, she’d never have found her way to the TARDIS at all. The Doctor frowned at her bracelet, lying on the ottoman. Vortex manipulator, she’d called it. He knew _of_ them -travel devices of the 51st century Time Agents- and they were generally considered on Gallifrey to be a nasty way to travel. (Then again, Time Lords did tend to disdain anything that wasn’t a TARDIS.)

But he’d never really had the opportunity to examine one at leisure… The Doctor picked it up, twisting it around his palm before bringing it up close to his eye to survey the keypad. He could see the marks of the last places she’d touched; and idly, he ran his fingers over them. The half-circle on top, the left; the square beside it had more sand caked in the corners, so perhaps she’d touched it twice…

He didn’t mean to press them. It was curiosity, nothing more… But suddenly there was a loud beep and a whish of colour and time and space around him; and with his head spinning, the Doctor looked around in alarm, finding himself no longer on the TARDIS.

Dark sand and grit underfoot. A grey featureless sky above, some sort of mountainous range all around. The Doctor turned slowly, seeking some sort of landmark to place where he was. Not much to go by. He spared half a moment to look at the vortex manipulator in his hand before sighing philosophically, tucking it into his pocket.

“Wherever I was,” he murmured to himself, “I am no more. Still, it could be worse. Not all who wander are lost. I do believe Tolkien stole that line from me... I ought to get royalties.”

There was nothing to be gained from standing around. The Doctor picked a direction at random, walking forward and taking deep breaths to figure out where he was. A mild metallic tang in the air. And the atmosphere was a bit thin -luckily nothing a binary vascular system couldn't handle- but did point to the idea that he wasn't on Earth.

He heard the clicks before he saw them, a warning to keep still. And then, as though a shimmering veil parted before him... thin, grey, shadowy figures stepped forth, guns pointed at him.

“Clumsy,” said the Doctor reprovingly. “No element of surprise when I could hear the safety of your weapons going off, before you even appeared.”

“Silence, spy. You are the intruder here,” said the one in front.

“Intruder is such an unpleasant word,” the Doctor interjected. He was ignored. The leader scowled at him, waving his gun.

“As the intruder-“

“Uninvited guest sounds better,” the Doctor said thoughtfully. “Intruder has a connotation, you see. Negative.”

“As the intruder,” the leader repeated, “your job is to be quiet. We ask the questions!”

“I've never thought that only one person in a crowd ought to be permitted to question things.” The Doctor shrugged, his hands spreading to show he was unarmed. “Because there are so many questions about so many things in the universe, but people are individuals... what occurs to one may not occur to another.

“For instance, your question to me might be a variant on: 'how did you get here?' And my answer would have to be: 'I'm not entirely certain.' Whereas, my question to you would be along the lines of: where is this place? And must you point guns at me...?

“Ah,” the Doctor continued, almost sadly, when the weapons didn’t lower, “I see that you must.”

“You talk too much.” The leader stepped closer, gun pointed at the Doctor's chest.

“You wouldn't believe the amount of times I've been told that. Still, I persevere in my belief that talking is the best weapon of all. Less mess, at least. Words can change the world, don't you think? Enlighten. Distract.”

A second later, he’d thrown himself down on the ground, using the momentum to log-roll toward them. As a distraction, it worked quite well. The absence of a standing target made the soldiers lower their guns in confusion, and then his body hitting their legs brought more than half of them down. When he was past them, the Doctor stood up, brushing off his coat and frowning at the grains of dark sand clinging to his pale grey trousers.

“I really must be off,” he called over his shoulder, breaking into a swift trot. “Lovely to meet you all.”

A trot turned into a run as the howls of outrage grew louder behind him. And then a run turned into a sprint as they started after him.

As comfortable as his shoes -on permanent loan from Grace's hapless ex- were, they'd obviously not been designed with running in mind. They _pinched_. His little toe was mashed up against its neighbours, he could feel the start of a blister on his heel; but the Doctor pumped his arms, running for all he was worth and trying to ignore the irritation of his feet. It shouldn’t be that difficult a task; he'd spent lifetimes running... but still, running often meant having a destination. Which was something he lacked.

Plus, they were gaining. It made sense. One of him, a dozen of them. Someone was going to catch up eventually... he just hoped there would be somewhere to hide before they reached him.

There was a loud rumble in the air. A crack and a sizzle; and the Doctor glanced upward, half expecting to see lightening streak across the sky. 

But no; no lightening. A tiny shape hurtled through the air, almost black in the distance against the grey of the sky. It came closer, closer… a discernible shape and colour now. A blue box, shooting down toward the ground – and then the doors swung open and the Doctor almost stumbled as he saw the figure standing there, illuminated by the golden light of the TARDIS.

On Gallifrey, it was felt that only lesser species had the need to pray. Organised religion was nothing more than a search for something greater than oneself, a reason for the laws of the universe to exist as they did. But what could be higher than a Time Lord? An egotistical view, yet a humble one. They weren't asking to be praised, after all; it was merely enough to know that there was no reason to seek anything more than what they, themselves, were.

Nine hundred years, and the Doctor had never felt the need to discard that opinion of his people. And yet… when the TARDIS doors flew open, his first jumbled thought was: _Goddess_. A woman strong and brave. A saviour with abundant blonde curls. Her skin seemed to glow a warm honey colour; and her attire –a snug white vest and slim fitting dark trousers, a brown leather holster on her hip- clung to her curves, making the raiment so much more entrancing than their utilitarian appearance would have suggested.

“You are a vision…” he stammered. “A goddess in gold, perhaps?”

His goddess rolled her eyes, snorting. “There’s a time and place for poetry, sweetie. This isn’t it.”

 _Sweetie_. Which could only mean that she was…

“River?” He winced, accidentally biting his tongue. “You clean up very nicely.”

“And you’re an idiot who meddles with things that don’t belong to him.”

He managed to nod. “Always.”

Her scolding look faded as she laughed, stretching her hand out toward him. The TARDIS was flying by itself, slightly in front and above of him as he ran; which was curious, he’d never been aware it was able to do that. In the part of his mind not devoted to what was currently going on, he tucked that away into the file labelled: ‘The Mystery of River’. Vortex manipulator and no stranger to the schematics and navigation of his TARDIS… Something to think about when there was time.

“Jump,” River urged him. Her eyes flickered over his head to where he was certain the soldiers were still running behind him. “Come on, Doctor. Now!”

He did. Or at least; he tried. Her hands caught him, their fingers curled around each other's wrists as she tugged to haul him on board. The TARDIS rose higher in the air, pulling them both up, up and away; River’s eyes were blue and green and triumphant as she grinned at him.

For a moment, anyway. Because then he felt something on his shoe. Something heavy… he managed to duck his head down to see a soldier clinging to his foot, dragging him back toward the ground. 

Above him, River was swearing in Urdu. She was trying to throw herself backwards to get him to safety, while he was kicking out his foot to dislodge the soldier… and then he could feel himself slipping, sliding down toward the ground and hastily let go of River.

But her hands tightened on his wrists, and so they fell, both of them. He didn't know why River hadn’t let go in time; foolish woman, she could have let him drop and gotten away.

It was only a few feet to fall. The Doctor swiftly pulled his arms down, so River was able to clutch his lapels, her arms sliding around his neck as he grabbed for her waist. She smelled like coconut shampoo and exhilaration; her face was close to his, lips brushing hotly against his cheek.

“Don’t worry,” he managed to say as they plummeted. “You’re safe with me.”

“Funny,” she whispered back. “I was about to say the same thing.”

They were still wrapped in each other’s arms when they hit the ground; but the soldiers forced them apart. River glanced at the Doctor, her eyes large and worried before a cloth bag was thrown over her head; and almost instantly, her knees buckled and she sank to the ground.

“There was no need to do that!” the Doctor exclaimed, trying to get over to her. But a soldier caught him before he could even touch her, restraining him as a similar bag was put over his own face and inundating his nostrils with a strange smell both sweet and sickly.

The Doctor inhaled deeply. Ah… yes. His nostrils flared as he identified the scent. There was chloroform in the bag, or some local variant… which really meant that his sniffing it to discover the origins had been the worst possible thing he could have done… and then the Doctor didn’t think of anything else as he closed his eyes, succumbing to darkness.


	2. conversation in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn't certain his eyes were open at first. He held his hand up, letting his eyelashes ruffle against his finger just to be sure. Eyes closed: darkness. Eyes open: darkness.
> 
> “Don't bother," said a soft voice from beside him. "There's nothing to see.”

He wasn't certain his eyes were open at first. He held his hand up, letting his eyelashes ruffle against his finger just to be sure. Eyes closed: darkness. Eyes open: darkness. He tried a few more times, just to be certain. Dark. Dark. Dark. Dark.

“Don't bother. There's nothing to see,” said a soft voice from beside him. 

“I thought as much,” said the Doctor, turning blindly toward River. “I only wanted to be sure I wasn't dreaming.”

“Landing in prison isn't any one's idea of a dream, Doctor.”

“Especially yours,” he said. “You hate this, being confined." 

She didn’t answer, but he knew he was right; although he wasn't certain what had made him say it, except that this regeneration seemed more intuitive. Gentler and more willing to listen, to absorb information that whispered instead of shouted.

He felt the displacement of air as River stood. Her footsteps were muffled as she paced the confines of the cell and he counted along with her: eight from the front to the back wall, twelve from side to side. No windows here, only the solid stone that he could hear her fingernails scrabbling against; and then her defeated sigh.

“There was no need for you to do this, when you hate being caged,” said the Doctor softly. “To join me in prison.”

“Oh, there was.” She didn't seem as though she was planning to elaborate further, and suddenly he wanted to push her, just a little.

“It's only fair to share your reasoning,” said the Doctor, with a mildly scolding tone in his voice. “Seeing as it's gotten both of us trapped here.”

“We're not exactly trapped,” said River.

“In a pitch black prison cell without windows? I notice they haven't left us food or water… humans do need those things, you know.”

“ _You're_ not human.”

“And you?” the Doctor responded calmly. River was silent, still not confirming or denying anything; which only proved he was probably right. 

His brief flash of irritation faded. He could push her further, see what she might say... But there wasn't a need. Not yet… plus, he loved mysteries. Following clues and hidden meanings until the answer was right there in plain sight. 

He could wait to solve this one. So he stretched his hand out toward her, pulling her back to sit beside him. He couldn’t see her, but in the darkness his other senses were working overtime… and for a few long moments, he was distracted by the warmth of her thigh pressed against his, the heady fragrance on her skin. Orange and bergamot and time... there was the sharp aroma that came from time travel, mixed in with the citrus. A lovely smell, a familiar one; and yet there was something missing that would irrevocably mark her as Time Lord to his senses. The Doctor inhaled, his nose almost buried in her hair; and River began to fidget until he pulled her even closer, tucking her into his side until she relaxed against him, her fingers drawing marks against his palm that he could identify immediately. 

Old High Gallifreyan. She might have spoken with an accent, but her writing was textbook. Better, perhaps, than his own… the Doctor concentrated, trying to decipher the sigils.

_Wrong timing. Damn you for tinkering with my manipulator. Once, it might have killed me to be so early._

And then: _I'm sorry, my love._ She wrote that again and again until he frowned. 

“Nothing to apologise for,” said the Doctor. Her fingers stilled and he used that distraction to capture them fully. “Why do I have a feeling that if we apologised to each other every time it was deserved; we’d never do anything else?”

The tension was broken. River began to laugh, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I forgot how funny you are, this young.”

“And correct?”

“Well…” She sounded serious now. “You should know that I can’t answer your questions.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both. Mostly the first one.”

“Oh,” said the Doctor. “So it's a secret? I do love secrets.”

“Liar,” River said. He could hear the smile in her voice. “You _hate_ secrets, when you're the one they're being kept from.”

Of course she was right. The Doctor grinned, stroking his thumb over the soft skin of her knuckles. “And you keep a lot of secrets from me, I take it?”

A pause. River sounded flustered when she finally murmured so low he had to strain to hear her: “we don't always meet in the right order, Doctor…”

“Ah. Yes, I thought it might be something like that. The trouble with time travellers. Always ending up in the right place but wrong time… Doesn’t anyone monitor you? Or,” he suggested slyly, “are you something of a free agent… a _time_ agent? Fifty-first century?”

He hadn't forgotten that the TARDIS had been unable to identify her. And there were so many races that would develop time travel, through the centuries... but each of River's traits narrowed down the possibilities. Human appearance – vortex manipulator – able to navigate a TARDIS – not to mention, so highly educated as to be fluent in written and spoken Gallifreyan. It was all in reading the clues to understand who she was; but still, no harm in ruling out the obvious hints.

“No,” River admitted suddenly into the quiet. “I’m not from their agency.”

“But a traveller in space and time.”

“Yes.”

“And an archaeologist,” pressed the Doctor. 

“That too.”

He paused, thinking. “Doesn't that seem contrary? You can travel. You can see anything, go anywhere. Why start at the end and not the beginning?”

Her answering chuckle was low, tickling his ears, making his hearts leap within his chest and cheeks blush. It was a beautiful sound; warm, intoxicating. He could live on her laughter, consume it like ambrosia.

“All these years,” River murmured, “and I don't think you've ever asked me that.”

“How many years?” He held his breath, waiting for her answer, wondering if she could be tricked so easily...

She didn't take the bait. “Too many to count, Doctor.”

“And yet you know," he whispered. "Almost to the minute, I'd think.” She held the answers to everything; he could feel it about her. There was a strength and perseverance that radiated off her… He wanted to reach out, touch her mind and see what it held.

But he didn't. He _wouldn't_ ; telepathy without being invited was of the worst manners back on Gallifrey. And he suspected… He wasn't certain what it was specifically. But despite the lack of information about her in the TARDIS data banks, despite the fact that something seemed to be different about her... something was still nagging at his brain, making him wonder: _Time Lady?_ Yet not one he could place... so perhaps she was out of her usual time stream? 

Well. Whatever his suspicions, whoever River was, she was also definitely a rebel and a wanderer, working through life on her own terms. He could respect that. His hand tightened on hers, his head tipped slightly to the side so he could nestle his cheek against her curls. They were still faintly damp from her shower, and cool against his skin.

“Why don't you tell me something else then?” suggested the Doctor. "You could have escaped. You didn't have to join me here; so why did you?”

Even without seeing her, he fancied her lips were pressed together, her eyes rolling. “Nice try, Doctor. You've already asked me that.”

“But you didn't really give me an answer. Is it another secret?” The Doctor laughed softly, lifting their hands up so he could press a small kiss on her fingers. They were small and slender, smooth except for a slight roughness on the knuckle of her index... he brushed his lips over that spot again, the tip of his tongue poking through. Flavour burst over his palate: dark and smoky, like gunpowder. It seemed to almost be a part of her skin and he wasn't quite certain what to think about that.

“Well,” said the Doctor cheerfully, “try this then. Where is _here_ , anyway?”

River sighed. “Environment checks, sweetie. You ought to do them.”

“I couldn't. I was rather surprised by your vortex manipulator carrying me away.”

“I'm sure. That's what happens when you steal other people's time travel devices.”

“I borrowed it!”

“Like the TARDIS?”

“And what would you know about that?”

River laughed. "More than you'd think.”

“How?” Even on Gallifrey, the story of how he'd ended up with his particular ship wasn't well known.

“Oh,” said River, still laughing. “She told me all about it.”

“Did she?” Curious, very curious indeed; as a rule, Type 40 TARDIS' didn't communicate in words. 

“And what else did she say?”

“She said to tell you not to worry; maybe someone can teach you to fly her properly one day.”

He would have been indignant if anyone else had said that, but something about River's teasing tone made him smile, shaking his head.

“Alright," said the Doctor. "Back to our conversation. Environment checks. Do I usually do them?”

“Well… no.”

“Oh good!” he exclaimed. “Perils of amnesia… I was afraid I'd forgotten that I used to be cautious? But no.” He laughed softly, squeezing River’s hand. “I _am_ reckless, then? Excellent.”

“Ever so dull,” said River, “being careful.”

“It is; I’m pleased you agree. Seems we complement each other.”

“Yes, perhaps we do.” There was a slightly breathless sound to River’s voice; and the Doctor wished it wasn't so dark, wished he could see her face. He wondered if her cheeks would be flushed in embarrassment by that admission, her eyelids downcast.

Truthfully, he just wanted to _see_ her. Her filthy appearance in the TARDIS aside, the only moments he had of what she looked like had been those moment when she was flying to rescue him… but she’d been amazing. Spectacular. Incredible.

The Doctor put his free hand out, cautiously, until he encountered the curly fluffiness of her hair, tracing the waves and coils with the pads of his fingertips until River sighed, rubbing her cheek against his palm like a cat.

“What _are_ you doing, sweetie?”

“Trying to see you.” He trailed his hand over the curve of her cheeks and stubborn jaw, thumb circling gently around her eyes, tracing the delicate folds of her ears before he paused, fingertips on her temple. Touch strengthened telepathy; he’d never just invade, but this regeneration seemed so much more sensitive. It was possible he could pick up a random unguarded thought here or there… 

River jerked her head away. “Stop it. I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh? What am I doing?” The Doctor leaned closer to her, until their faces were inches apart. He could feel the warmth of her lips, the soft rustling of her breath against his skin with her every exhale.

“Cheating. I know you too well for that to work.”

He was about to protest, when River sighed. “Alright, Doctor. I’ll make a deal with you. If you ask the right questions, then I’ll answer." She hesitated before adding: "if I can" ... which he knew really meant that she could lie. 

And somehow, he wouldn’t have expected anything less. But it made him smile, realising that even though she was little more than a stranger to him, he was learning to read her. The little signs, the things she left unsaid between her words.

“Fair enough.” He lowered his voice, his lips right against her ear.

“Tell me the history of this planet.”

River made a little sound, a half-muffled squeak of surprise. The Doctor grinned. So that wasn’t what she’d expected him to ask… good. He liked knowing he could keep her on her toes.

“We’re on Yurnef,” she mumbled. “In the –“

“Kazan system,” interjected the Doctor.

“And there’s a war here right now. Two native species fighting for dominion; and they’re very suspicious of outsiders. They consider all of them spies to assist the other side, which is why we’re in prison-“

“But you said you were on an expedition. Ah,” said the Doctor triumphantly. “Yes, I believe I remember my history now. Human colony of the Forty-Ninth Century… there were rumours that they’d crashed here. They’d been on their way to… to…” He frowned, unable to think of where they’d been going.  
“New Rhode Island,” supplied River. “You’re right; crashed and never heard from again-”

“Except that in the Fifty-first Century there was a town discovered on another planet in the Kazan system that claimed they could trace their origins to the Lost Colony of Yurnef.”

River didn’t say anything. It seemed like she was waiting…

“Well?” prompted the Doctor after a few moments.

“Oh,” said River. “I was expecting you to interrupt me again.”

“I wasn’t interrupting, we were sharing the storytelling. So, go on?”

“My University was hired to do research of the old records and an excavation of the colony's original landing site-“

“And you found out what happened to them! Were they saved? They must have been. Or it was an elaborate lie… but no, why would someone lie about that?

“Who saved them?” the Doctor demanded. “Were you able to decipher anything? Any records left behind?”

“Well,” River hedged. “Yes. There were records left. Legends and stories that had been passed down from the generations; and I did decipher them to know that the Lost Colony had needed some help. Which is why I left to find…”

She stopped. He could tell she was biting her lip, still only inches away from him.

“Your Scottish tutor of Gallifreyan?” prompted the Doctor.

He felt River shrug, the faintest smile on her face. “Maybe.”

“And do I know him?”

She sighed, as though aware she was about to admit something important. "Perhaps, one day.”

“I see,” he murmured. And he did. The Mystery of River was unfolding before him. A woman who breezed into his TARDIS, a Scotsman who taught her Gallifreyan, her surprise at seeing this face but utter lack of it at anything else.

He'd had the feeling that something was coming. Another unexpected interlude before returning the Master to Gallifrey... but he would never have imagined that the Universe would throw someone like River, so clearly from his own future, right into his TARDIS.

And yet somehow, sitting with her in a dark prison cell on an alien planet, calmly discussing a local war and a colony that had to be saved in the past; he couldn't imagine anywhere he'd rather be. Or another person he'd want to be there with.

“Does it need to be him?” he asked finally. “Would I do?”

River paused. “The notes I found only said ‘Doctor’. Not a mention of which regeneration… though you don’t have to help.”

“But of course I will. You _wanted_ help, you came to find me. And,” said the Doctor, playing on a hunch, “I think that you’ve already got a way to save the colony.”

“Am I that obvious, Doctor? You don’t even know me.”

“But clearly I will do. And I’m right, aren’t I? You’ve got a plan that could save everyone…I should kiss you for that.”

River laughed, almost nervously. He could feel her shifting her body slightly backward, away from him. “Maybe when you're older... for now, I think we've been here long enough for us to plan on leaving.”

She had extricated herself from beside him, her hand sliding from his before he had even realised she was going to do it. The cell was barely big enough for the two of them, but it felt suddenly lonely without her by his side.

“You are clever,” said the Doctor. “But how did you plan for us to escape from a prison without even any windows and no obvious door?”

“Well...” River said slowly. “I could use my blaster to disintegrate part of the walls. Or, we could start digging a tunnel.” He heard the scuff of her toe against the floor, shifting the hard packed dirt.

“Or,” she went on, almost casually, “we could just wait...”

There was a soft click, and then the dim light of twilight overhead, shocking after the darkness. A ladder descended, hitting him in the shoulder; and the Doctor squeezed his eyes shut, blinking frantically to clear his vision, only to feel River rush past him. There was a clunk and a whimper and something heavy falling to the ground by his feet - and then her fingers curled around his wrist, guiding him to freedom. He climbed by instinct into the cool air out the prison and managed to pry his eyelids open to see her shutting a door set into the ground and turning to smile at him.

“Because,” she continued, as though there hadn't been a break, “it's about time for the guard to come by and check if we're dead, which would make it easy to rush him and escape.”

The Doctor couldn't help the rueful smile creeping over his face. “You've been here before, haven't you?”

“I do my research,” she replied, which the Doctor noted wasn’t really an answer. “Plus, I'm rather good at escaping from inescapable places.

“Now, hold on.” River snaked one arm around his waist, holding up the other so the Doctor could see the vortex manipulator dangled from her other hand. He hastily checked his pockets before looking down at her suspiciously. When _had_ she pickpocketed him?

“Stop complaining,” River said. She was squinting at the buttons, tapping in coordinates. “It wasn't pickpocketing. You stole it from me to begin with. I was just taking back my own possession.”

“Did I say that aloud?” asked the Doctor. He curved his arm around her shoulder, pulling River into his side, and she shook her head. Her curls brushed against his cheek as she looked up at him with a sly smirk.

“Maybe I can read your mind?”

“And you scolded _me_ for trying!” the Doctor managed to say, right before River punched one final button on her manipulator, and the world dissolved around them.


	3. the left behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They may have been safely away from the prison and back in time at the Lost Colony's camp, but the Doctor wished there had been another way to get there. On Gallifrey, there were a few unspoken guidelines about travel; and one was that time travel without a capsule could be a real killer.

They may have been safely away from the prison and back in time at the Lost Colony's camp, but the Doctor wished there had been another way to get there. On Gallifrey, there were a few unspoken guidelines about travel; and one was that time travel without a capsule could be a real killer. 

Not literally, perhaps. But the resulting discomfort, dizziness and nausea could certainly make you wish for death. And it didn't help that River was laughing softly as he swayed on the balls of his feet, clutching at his head.

“I know,” she said. “You hate traveling with me.”

“I think under better circumstances, you would be a very satisfactory travelling companion,” answered the Doctor, not missing the sudden downturn of River's lips at the word _companion_. “It's your mode of transport that I find unpleasant.”

“You'll get used to it,” she assured him.

“Will I?” asked the Doctor incredulously.

“Well... not exactly. And you'll never stop teasing me about what it does to my hair. 

“But,” she added, seeing his eyes flicker to the state of her hair before his hands came up to pat his own curls in dismay, “it is useful to get us out of tight spots when the TARDIS isn't around. Oh, and don't worry about the old girl. I set the HADS before I came for you. She'll turn up.”

River was too clever by half. He loved his companions, he really did. Every single one of them… and yet as the Doctor followed River into the camp, he couldn’t help relishing the feeling that he was travelling with a woman who was his equal. She sauntered casually forward, a pleasant smile on her face, as if unaware of the suspicious looks they were receiving from the camp’s inhabitants.

“It’s useless to tell you to be careful, isn’t it?” murmured the Doctor.

River shrugged. “I'm about as careful as you are.”

“What an alarming and exhilarating thought,” said the Doctor.

“Don't worry, you'll get used to that too.”

“I think I already have,” the Doctor said. He lengthened his stride to catch up to her, capturing her hand easily in his. 

“Charmer.”

“Must be the company that brings it out in me,” answered the Doctor.

“Oh... shut up.” But her eyes were bright with laughter when she glanced at him. Her smile seemed to echo in his hearts, making him wonder about the implication of their relationship. There _had_ been human companions that he'd cared for. (In a ridiculous moment of exhilaration, he'd actually even kissed Grace.) But he would always have hesitated about being involved with them... except of course if his suspicion was right that River wasn't human. A displaced Time Lady from his future… he wanted to believe that she was, but he still wasn’t wholly certain.

“They're surrounding us,” River murmured, drawing his attention back to her.

“I noticed.” Or rather, he'd noticed the shadows of the colony members moving behind them, effectively blocking off their egress. He paused, listening to the subtle clicks of multiple weapon safeties being turned off.

“I won't let you get hurt,” River said softly.

“That's usually my line,” he protested. 

She glanced up at him. “And I'm not allowed to have a job?”

“Archaeologist _is_ a job.”

She paused, then laughed. “Sweetie, I don't think you've ever acknowledged that.”

Her fingers laced more tightly through his as they kept walking. The only way to go was forward, as though they were being herded to a central campfire where a tall, dark haired man stood, watching their approach.

“Hello,” the Doctor called the moment they were close enough. “Nice day for a stroll, isn't it?”

The man tilted his head, not responding. The Doctor smiled back innocently.

“Perhaps you're not fond of strolling? Then let me say instead: it's a nice day to travel, however you do it. On foot, in a car... In your ship to get away from the civil war you managed to crash into...?” He raised his eyebrows, glancing meaningfully toward the right where a rotund silver ship sat on the sand.

“We’re not spies,” the man finally said in a deep voice.

“Neither are we,” answered the Doctor promptly.

“And if you’re part a patrol team, then you are a very different breed to the ones we have already met.”

“Certainly a different breed,” the Doctor whispered under his breath for only River to hear; and he was gratified to see her lips twist into a smile.

“We're not from this planet,” the Doctor said in a louder voice. “We heard about your crash, and we were sent to help you.”

“From Earth?” the man asked eagerly, leaning forward. “Did they send you to bring us back?”

“Not from Earth, either,” said the Doctor. “It's more accurate to say that I have friends on Earth. And when I heard of your plight, I realised that I am, of course, the best choice for assistance.” He smiled. He loved it when he was able to give answers where nothing was technically a lie, although certainly not the entire truth.

“I'm called the Doctor,” he continued, “and this is my friend, River.”

“I'm Todd,” the man replied. “Of-“

“It doesn't really matter,” River interrupted with a charming smile. “Where you're from. All that matters is where you'll end up. And we're here to help you get there… because I think that we’re running out of time. Aren’t we?”

Todd stared at River. “Are you sure you’re not spies?” he asked suspiciously.

“No,” said River. “Just very good at preliminary research about local customs and people, and how this war will turn." She hesitated. “Did the authorities come through already?”

“The patrols have,” said Todd. “The last ones warned us about what they do to spies here… They gave us three days to fix our ship and leave if we're really harmless before the authorities come for us.”

“And I imagine you haven't much time left,” said the Doctor.

“Just about two hours.” Todd sighed. “I should tell you that our senior staff were killed in the crash. All of the people who had been in the control room… our leaders, the tech crew. I took charge -there was no one else capable- and I’ve been trying to make things work…”

“But you can't quite manage,” said the Doctor, understanding immediately. “Not to worry. I'm very good at this sort of thing.”

“ _We’re_ very good,” River interjected, the faintest emphasis on the noun. The Doctor grinned, suddenly aware of the warmth of River's hand still in his, and remembering a golden goddess flying his TARDIS to rescue him…

“We,” he agreed, giving her fingers a little squeeze. River shot him a gratified smile.

“You should round up all the colonists,” she said. “I'll take a quick look at your navigation, and then help the Doctor to fix the ship.”

“You make it sound easy,” Todd said.

“It will be,” River assured him. “But we should still hurry.”

Minutes later, the entire scene had changed. The colonists weren’t tense and anxious, milling around the campsite. There was a hopeful, jubilant air as they packed their belongings and loaded them in the ship, that perhaps they wouldn’t die here, so far from home. River had already gone off with Todd, and the Doctor followed the junior tech team.

“No,” he said, when they tried to explain the workings of the ship. “I think I can manage here, thank you. Go on, I’m sure you have other things to do.” He didn’t need their help; if he could repair the TARDIS (or, at least ensure she was still capable of flying) then he was more than capable of sorting out wiring for an Earth ship of the Forty-Ninth century. 

“This will be easily managed,” mumbled the Doctor. He had the sonic clenched between his teeth as his fingers nimbly sorted: red to blue, black to green. “After all, some might call me a genius with wiring.”

“Some?”

He glanced over to see River leaning against the door frame. Her arms were crossed, a sly smirk on her face. He hadn’t expected her back so soon… still, he was happy she was there. Somehow, things seemed more vivid with River. Brighter and clearer, altogether better.

“Most,” he amended, affecting a superior expression.

“If you say so, sweetie.” The teasing tone of her voice told him that she clearly didn’t believe him or had experience to the contrary… well, time to prove her wrong. Wires in order, he brandished his screwdriver, producing an acrid puff of smoke. The Doctor waved it aside, noting that River wasn’t even watching him anymore. She was on the other side of the room, busy at work with _something_ … 

And then he realised. Walked over to her, and saw her hands still on the transmogrification cylinders although she didn’t turn around. He brushed her curls back from her face, leaning over until she shivered from the touch of his breath on her neck; and then he couldn’t help moving closer still. His lips brushed right against the smooth curves of her ear, and when he spoke, it was in an intimate whisper. 

“You’re cheating, River.”

“A little.” She didn’t even try to deny it. “Time traveling archaeologist, Doctor. It’s not like I don’t know what happens to them.”

“Just as you know what’s really wrong with their ship?”

“The wiring was damaged, not broken. Repairing the transitional vectors-“

“And therefore rerouting the energy transfer through the cylinders,” interrupted the Doctor, already taking one from her hand to slide it into the correct place.

“Will make the ship run again,” River finished. “For a short hop, at least. I know they think we can get them back to Earth, but…”

“It won't hold for that long,” agreed the Doctor.

“No. But they will be fine, though they might not think so when they arrive. Their leader will have a lot to do those first few weeks: keeping morale high, helping them learn a new way of surviving.” She paused, the faintest of smiles creeping over her face. “It’s a completely different environment than they’d expected. Different food supplies, for one. They’ll have to develop some new recipes.”

“I’m sure that Todd will be capable of leading them forward,” said the Doctor. River hesitated, then smiled, reaching out to take the last cylinder back from him.

“Todd will be an amazing leader,” she said softly. But the Doctor looked at her, seeing a glint in her eyes said she knew more than she was saying about the future of the people here at this camp. As a Time Lord, he knew that feeling, understood it well; but for her? Well, of course. Never dismiss a time travelling archaeologist, especially one who had done her research about the colony’s origins.

“Of course,” the Doctor said mildly, “we could always go along with them.”

“We _could_?”

“It might be fun. I’m sure our knowledge would be quite useful for them in those first days-“

“Weeks,” interjected River.

“Oh, let’s not pin ourselves down on time, now. Days, weeks…” He shrugged. “And taking a quick trip together does sound better than waiting here for the TARDIS while the authorities come by.”

He would have been lying if he didn’t say that the _together_ part was an incentive, as well. Yes; helping the colony. But spending more time with this intoxicating mystery of a woman… trying to decipher her secrets… River smiled up at him as though she could guess his thoughts; before raising one hand to slide her fingers through the long hair at his nape, her thumb caressing his cheek.

“My Doctor,” she breathed. “Always coming up with a plan.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Sweetie, I think that you should go tell Todd that we’ll be joining them. And while you’re up there, you should take a look at the navigation. I tried to enter the coordinates, but something in the system seemed to jam. And… well.” She withdrew her hand, flashing a mischievous smile at him. 

“Some would call you a genius with wiring.”

“I’m happy you’re finally admitting it,” said the Doctor. “But you’ll need help down here-“

“Oh, don’t worry about this.” River waved her hand at the circuits. “Five minutes to put it right. I do cheat, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” The Doctor paused, watching her carefully. Despite the carefree tone in her voice, there was a sudden tension radiating off her, a slight feeling that something, somewhere was wrong.

“River-“

“Go, sweetie.” She raised her head, looking him directly in the eyes. “Get in the ship. I’ll be there in a few minutes. In fact, I’m sure I’ll be up there soon enough for you to impress me with your wiring skills.”

“They will impress you,” he promised.

“You impress me,” she murmured, ducking her head back down over the components. “Always. Now go.”

* * *

Forty-Ninth Century Earth ships had always had one little design flaw, and it was that there was no good way from the central wiring to the control panel from on board. It was possible, but not easy… and the Doctor felt decidedly rumpled when he finally managed to emerge from below.

“Doctor!” Todd hurried over to him. “You made it.”

“Yes, of course,” said the Doctor, frowning as he smoothed down his jacket. The nap of the velvet seemed to be crushed, in all the wrong ways. “River is below finishing the wiring, and I’ve come up to check the navigation. She said that something isn’t working correctly?”

“The system is over here,” Todd said, leading him to the panels. The Doctor caught a sight of their reflections in the dark touchscreen. Himself; looking decidedly worse for wear (he wasn’t convinced on his hair yet. Perhaps he needed a trim) and Todd, looking nervous and sweaty.

“It’ll be fine,” said the Doctor. He lay one hand on the screen, tentatively tapping the lit patches. “We’ll get you out of here, and you’ll be safe. And River and I will come with you, just to see that you’re settled.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Todd said. “Doctor… have you looked outside? I was just noticing; do you see how the light is shimmering, off there to the right? The patrols had these sorts of shields; you would think your eyes were playing tricks on you, the sun shining on the sand. And then they’d just appear…”

“I’m aware of that,” said the Doctor absently. “I got caught by a patrol, myself. But they did say two hours, and it hasn’t been that long…” He tapped at another patch, which led to the problem River had mentioned. And it was easily fixed… so easily that he wondered she hadn’t done it herself. He would have sworn she was more than capable of something like that.

“There,” said the Doctor, leaning back in his seat. “Finished. And if River has connected everything on her end, then--” He pressed one more patch, and the console lit up in blue and green and orange lights.

“Ready to fly,” he said triumphantly. But Todd’s attention was still caught on whatever was going on outside the window. The Doctor glanced outside himself, and then jumped up, striding toward the ship’s loudspeaker and switching it to external projection.

“Inside!” he called, hoping that all the colonists not yet on board would hear. “To the ship, NOW!”

Because he should have listened to Todd. The shield shimmer was just that; the shield hiding the Yurnef authorities. That now broke apart, revealing the soldiers marching upon the frightened people running for the ship.

“I think they lied to you,” he said tightly, turning back to Todd. “Yurnef… they were known to be cruel to outsiders, treat them all as spies during their civil war. And I think that they never intended that you should leave…”

He broke off, debating what to do. On one hand, he could help. He’d certainly done it before; a word here, a meeting there. Shifting the balance, leading toward ending this pointless war. (He remembered his history now, knew what would happen to the Yurnef race… it would be devastated for centuries to come as the two races battled.)

But in the here and now, there was a ship of humans who had the bad fortune to land here by accident. And while he was sure he could help everyone, perhaps the most important thing was to fix _this_. Get the colonists to where they were supposed to end up, thus preserving time streams so that he and River would end up where they were supposed to…

_River._

The Doctor froze. If the ship’s systems were back online, then River should have made her way back to the control room. Even with the uncomfortable crawl through the pipes, she still should have been back - unless she’d taken the easier detour by exiting the ship and re-entering through the doors – which meant she was possibly still outside.

She _was_. She was helping the last colonists because the soldiers were getting closer, closer… close enough that she gave the final person a swift push on board, and then turned and ran. The Doctor’s eyes tracked her; her curls were like a beacon, burnished a deep gold in the sun as she wove between the soldiers -occasionally turning to fire a blaster that seemed set to incapacitate, not kill, based on how they were dropping- as she led them away from the ship.

There was an escape hatch no more than a metre or two away. He was about to go outside, talk to the Yurnef authority, help River… when there was a _click_ and something cold snapped onto the Doctor’s wrists. He tore his eyes away from the spectacle outside to look down. There was a chain woven around the bars by the window, two sturdy bracelets glinting silver…

“I’m sorry,” Todd said at the Doctor’s confused look. “She told me I had to do it.”

“ _She_ … River, you mean? She said you had to put me in _handcuffs_?” asked the Doctor incredulously. He shook his hands, grimacing at the metallic jingle. 

“Is this a usual thing that you keep on your ship?”

“Err… no.” Todd looked even more embarrassed. “She gave them to me.”

Logically, he knew that there was no way he could tug metal cuffs off his wrists, but the Doctor still tried. Swiftly pulling his hands apart, twisting his wrists from side to side. Nothing. River, apparently, carried heavy duty handcuffs in her pockets. The Doctor wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“I don’t have time for this,” he said. “Unlock them, and let me get her.”

“She made me promise,” Todd said. “I’m sorry, I’ll unlock them as soon as we leave. But she said that you’re our only hope of survival. She made me promise that no matter what happened, we’d keep you on the ship. We would keep you safe.”

“While she’s left in danger,” said the Doctor softly. He could hear the external doors slam shut, and then the ship engines began to rumble beneath him, the anti-grav kicking in as they lifted slowly from the ground. 

And in the distance, River paused, her face tilted toward the ship. He didn’t know if she could see him, but the Doctor lifted his hand as much as he was able, waving to get her attention; and he thought she smiled then, raising her hand to her lips… blowing him a kiss good-bye.


	4. Plans. Of a sort.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know,” said the Doctor. “She said to keep me safe. No need to go on about it.” He could take almost everything except Todd’s guilt. The man had apologised nearly every night for four weeks.

The Doctor had never been fond of rebuilding a society. The first step, perhaps. Offering assistance and liberation to those who needed a push in the right direction. But when faced with the aftermath, the day-to-day, the minutia of it all… he was _bored_.

And the worst part was that he was stuck there until the TARDIS came back. He had found River's vortex manipulator in his pocket (and he was a little worried that he didn't know when she'd managed to sneak it back in there) but it seemed to have burned out. Or perhaps only she knew how to use it... all the same, it meant that he was there as an unwilling member of the colony for much, much longer than he would ever have meant to be.

Yet he tried, as the days went by. (Weeks, she’d said. _Weeks_ … he tried not to think about it.) The colony had been organised when they left Earth; it was simply a matter of helping them to acclimatise to surroundings they weren’t prepared for. Rallying spirits when they flagged, subtly training Todd to be a leader in truth, not just name. The Doctor took off his velvet jacket to help dig wells and build houses; he identified local produce and took his turns in the camp kitchen, inventing new recipes (some more successful than others). He even found a set of dried leaves that proved a decent substitute for tea.

And in the evenings, he told stories to the children… they would clamour around him at the campfire, begging to hear about the adventures he’d had, the places he’d been. The parents –exhausted and grateful for the respite from their offspring- dismissed his stories as fairy tales full of magic and time travel; the stuff of legends. But the children knew, as children always do, that it was real. The monsters and the madmen, the wonders and the heroes across the Universe… he told the listening children stories of it all.

Sometimes, he even told them about River. Of course, there wasn’t much to tell. What could he say of a woman he’d known for only a few hours, most of them trapped inside a pitch-dark prison? But that never stopped him. He’d spin out the tale of her breezing into his TARDIS as though she owned it; of himself, ending up in trouble and her glowing silhouette as she flew his ship to rescue him.

“One day,” he always said to finish the story, “I’ll see her again. My people – _our_ people,” he corrected himself, because in this little exile, he’d thought hard about it and he was almost positive he was correct, “have a saying about people meant to be together. Time isn’t a straight line, it’s a chain linking future to past to present; and no one can be lost to you forever.”

He didn’t notice Todd standing at the edges of the fire one night, until the children had gone back to their home tents to sleep, leaving just the two of them alone.

“Well,” said the Doctor. “It’s nice to see you; you don’t usually come out here to listen to my little stories.”

“I don’t usually have the time,” Todd admitted. “And tonight, I came to inform you of something… but I also wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for us. And to apologise, again. For my part in bringing you here.”

“You’ve said that already,” interrupted the Doctor. “I understand; and I _did_ offer that we’d join you.”

“Except that you meant both of you. I’m sorry we couldn’t help her, but she said-“

“I know,” said the Doctor. He idly picked up a twig, twirling it between his fingers. “She said to keep me safe. No need to go on about it.” He could take almost everything except Todd’s guilt. The man had apologised nearly every night for four weeks.

“You know, you’ve never told us who she was? Most of the people here just remember her as the Doctor’s brave companion.”

“I don’t think she cares to be called my companion,” the Doctor murmured. “And I doubt she’d ever be just that.”

He paused, staring into the flickering fire. Who was River? What words could he possibly use to describe her? An archaeologist. A fellow time traveller. An independent, self-sufficient woman, who was yet willing to sacrifice her own safety and personal peace of mind for him. A rebel and a mystery.

“I find myself thinking of her as an interlude,” he said finally, with a casual shrug. “Aren’t we all, though? In the grand scheme of our lives, there are the little interludes. That brief moment when a shared experience and story can bind us to another person, another place or time… Perhaps the truth is that River came into my life when she did, because I was meant to be here to help you. And that when I meet her again, it’ll be so I can assist someone else. On and on across time; I’ll have stolen moments with a mysterious woman to look forward to, all meant to bring me to where I need to be.

“Fascinating thought, isn’t it?” mused the Doctor. “And it’s something to anticipate; seeing her again.”

But Todd was frowning at him. The problem with this particular colony, the Doctor had realised very early on, was that they had very little whimsy to them… he hoped the future generations might be different. More likely, they _would_ be; if only because they had memories of a certain storyteller in their past. Stories and fairy tales, passed down through the ages of the colony’s saviour: the Doctor.

“Doctor,” Todd said finally, “all you had to say is that you miss her.”

“Alright then,” the Doctor said, tossing the twig with sudden vehemence into the fire. “I miss her.”

But it wasn't just that. _Missing_ her; such a human statement, and not nearly enough for a Time Lord. He missed a lot of things, a lot of people. But when he thought about River, he could remember how she had felt tucked against his side in the dark of the prison and writing Gallifreyan on his palm; or her arms around his neck as they fell from the safety of the TARDIS.

It went beyond missing her. Beyond wondering if she’d eluded the Yurnef authorities to find her way back home, and when he’d see her again.

It was something drawing him back to her. Betrayal, maybe? The Doctor remembered asking her why she hadn’t just let him fall, why she’d ended up in prison with him? And that was it, really. She hadn't been willing to leave him then… so why did she let him go with the ship later? Why had she let him leave her?

Thoughts like those made him fidget. The Doctor couldn’t sit still any longer, his legs were twitching beneath him, longing to move; when Todd cleared his throat.

“Before you go on one of your late-night walks,” the man said cautiously, “I did come here for a reason, because I thought you should know. The guard reported hearing something in the trees. A strange sound.”

“A strange sound from the trees?” asked the Doctor. “Did one fall with no one but its friends to mourn it?”

“Not from the trees; _in_ them. A whoosh-whoosh-whoosh sound…” Todd shrugged; but the Doctor jumped to his feet, a beatific smile breaking over his face.

“A strange whooshing noise, you say? I do believe that’s my transport, finally returned. I should fine-tune the HADS when I have time… it should never have taken this long.”

“So… you’re leaving?” Todd asked. “But if we need help, Doctor? I’m not sure we can survive here, without you.”

“Nonsense, people survive without me all the time,” said the Doctor cheerfully, retying his cravat, shaking out his coat. “I’m not a permanent fixture, more of… an emergency plaster. There to hold you together when you need it, and then it’s time for me to go away so you can finish healing by yourself.

“You _will_ be fine,” the Doctor promised, shaking Todd’s hand. “You as a leader, your little society; I have it from the best authority that you’ll grow and flourish here for centuries to come… now, tell everyone goodbye for me when they wake up tomorrow. Tell them…”

The Doctor paused, still smiling. “Tell them I said to live well and be happy. That’s really the best advice I can think of. But if you’ll excuse me, I must go. Things to do. People to see. Things to deliver.”

He managed to slip away before Todd could say anything else; and strode off into the trees, pulling his jacket on as he walked. Yes; his old girl was out there. In his pocket, the key heated from her proximity.

“Warm,” said the Doctor aloud to himself, following the psychic connection. “Warmer, warmer, hot! And here I am, finally. Home sweet home… have you missed me?” He stroked his hand along the TARDIS console, delighting in her soft hum beneath his fingertips.

“I’ll take that for a yes. Where have you been… oh, I know, it’s no good asking. You’ll never give me an answer. Come on, now. Time for us to leave.”

He entered coordinates, braced himself for dematerialisation… but the TARDIS didn’t move. The Doctor craned his head to peer at the monitor. Everything _seemed_ right. She should be working…

“Don’t choose now to be temperamental,” he urged his ship. “Or to break down. There is somewhere I’d like to go.”

Still no response. The Doctor groaned, pulling out his screwdriver and resigning himself to a repair job.

“I really don’t have time for this,” he said, tilting his head to check under the console. “I wanted to get back to Yurnef. I wanted… no, I needed to find River.”

The words were only just out of his mouth when the TARDIS sprang to life. The rotor pumped, and his ship dematerialised with a sudden groan and a lurch, sending him sprawling gracelessly on the floor. The Doctor managed to pull himself up, staring up at the console and wondering if it was just River’s name that had prompted her to move. It almost made him wonder if she’d developed a liking for her… she'd certainly never moved like that for him.

Moments later, they’d materialised in Yurnef. Back in the Forty-Ninth century, the Doctor thought; and it was the same as it had been before. The dark sand and distant mountain range, the scorched scent in the air that the Doctor now realised was from the energy displacement of their shimmer shields. There was still nothing around to draw landmarks from, nothing but a barren landscape as far as the eye could see.

Yet the TARDIS had landed him here. And when he’d asked: “are you certain River is here?” the doors sprang open. It seemed that she must be somewhere… he hoped she was, at least. The Doctor walked outside carefully, eyes scanning right and left for a glimpse of her. Her hair; he’d always recognise each spring and coil of River’s curls. The curves of her lithe body. Her smile.

Nothing. Still nothing, no matter how far he walked. The TARDIS was only a smudge of blue on the horizon when he decided to turn back and do a scan for lifeforms… and then he heard the familiar clicks, the scorched smell growing stronger…

“Not again,” sighed the Doctor. “Yes, alright. I know you’re out there, might as well do the great reveal.”

In front of him, the shields dropped, and a Yurnef patrol stepped out. A dozen faces stared at him, and the Doctor smiled as pleasantly as he was able to, wondering if he’d be able to bluff his way out of this.

“I’m happy to see you,” said the Doctor. “In a manner of speaking, at least. I do believe that I’ve lost someone here on your planet.”

“Silence,” said the commander. “Who are you spying for?”

“I don’t know how many times I have to say this, but I’m not a spy. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Yet you are not from here.”

“I’m rather grateful I’m not,” murmured the Doctor. 

“And you say you’ve lost someone?”

“Yes… We got lost – separated on your planet. And I’ve just come back to find her; I wonder if you’ve seen her in passing? A woman, around this tall. Blonde curls…” The Doctor’s voice faded as suddenly, there were a dozen guns pointed at his face.

“You should be a little more trusting,” he chided. “Not all strangers are spies. Some are merely travellers who want to go home and spend as little time in your war as possible.”

The leader was watching him, eyes narrowed in dislike. “Not all strangers are spies; yet you’ve described the most notorious one of all. Disappears in and out of prisons, all across the planet; and how could she do that if she wasn’t a spy?”

“Perhaps she’s just clever?” the Doctor murmured, not-quite-managing to hide his smile. “Or just very skilled at getting herself in trouble. Happens when you interfere… I’ve had that little problem too, you know. The problem with good-natured meddling, is that sometimes you just don’t know when to stop…”

The leader scowled, giving a swift nod so that two officers came forward to grab the Doctor’s arms, pinning them to his sides.

“Ah.” The Doctor blinked, looking nervously from right to left and then back at the leader. “I’m proving a wonderful example to that now, aren’t I? I could have stopped talking moments before. Or, perhaps, just not spoken about River at all… pretended to be her solicitor; because she is in prison, isn’t she?” He twisted a little in the officer’s grasp, sighing as they held him a little tighter.

“Now, there’s really no reason for this behaviour –“

His words were cut off as a bag was thrust over his head. Another cloth sack; and yes – he breathed cautiously – chloroform, _again_. The world turned dark and fuzzy as he dropped to his knees, head spinning.

“Back to prison, I take it,” the Doctor mumbled indistinctly through the fabric in front of his mouth as his consciousness faded. “I was willing to come quietly, I’ll have you know... but thank you, because I do believe this might just work out well for what I had in mind.” 


	5. conclusion of an interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a scent tickling his nostrils: sweet, tart, citrus with an underlying tang of time energy. Familiar, so familiar, if he could just place it. There was something soft beneath his cheek, but unpleasantly hard beneath his body; and the Doctor’s eyelids fluttered, his eyes opening once more onto darkness.

There was a scent tickling his nostrils: sweet, tart, citrus with an underlying tang of time energy. Familiar, so familiar, if he could just place it. There was something soft beneath his cheek, but unpleasantly hard beneath his body; and the Doctor’s eyelids fluttered, his eyes opening once more onto darkness.

“You,” said a wry voice from above him, “are hopeless.”

“That’s not one of the things I’m usually called,” he mumbled. “Amazing, brilliant-“

“Infuriating?”

“Closer.” He was trying to get his bearings. The last thing he remembered was being taken by the Yurnef authorities; and now he was…? A few more moments and he realised. Back in prison, dirt floor beneath his body, and his head on River's lap. Her fingers combed through his hair; and the Doctor blinked in the darkness, managing to smile despite the situation.

“You could sound more grateful, you know. I came back here for you.”

“I realised. You didn't have to; I could get out on my own.”

“Oh, I know you got us out, before. But you left something with me, River.” He was reluctant to move, but he managed to dig in his pocket until he could pull out her vortex manipulator, pressing it into her hand.

“I think it burnt out,” he said. “I tried to do a few repairs, recharge it at least.”

River sighed again. “I wish you’d stop doing that.”

“Based on how we met,” said the Doctor, “I doubt that will ever happen, River.”

He heard her chuckle, and the sound revitalised him enough to flip onto his back, keeping his head on her lap. Her fingers were stroking over his forehead, sliding through his curls, when she suddenly gave them a sharp tug.

“I don’t know if you realised,” said the Doctor, wincing. “But that hurt.”

“Stop complaining,” she scolded. “Just say it.”

“Say what?”

“What you wanted to. The real reason why you came back. It wasn’t just to give me back the manipulator; I would have found you eventually to retrieve it. Or you would have given it to someone for me, another Time Agent.”

“I thought you’re not from their agency?”

She hesitated. “Maybe I lied to you.”

She hadn’t, he was certain of that. But she was right; there was something he wanted to say. The thoughts he’d had during those long weeks of exile, the reason for that faint feeling of betrayal.

“You tricked me,” the Doctor said evenly. He sat up, moving just far enough that she couldn’t touch him. “You made me leave you behind.”

“It happens with us, quite a lot.”

“That doesn't make it all right, River.”

“No, I suppose it wouldn't. It never does,” she added in an undertone. There was a sad note in her voice that made his hearts hurt.

“All I can say,” River whispered, “is that I had to. I knew what was supposed to happen, Doctor. I wasn't mentioned in the documents I found; only you. They spoke about your brave companion and her sacrifice for their safety-”

“Time can be rewritten-“

“Not everything-“

“But you should have told me!”

“No, I shouldn't have. We don't tell each other everything, you know.” She sighed. “You said it yourself. The consequences of time travel and meeting in the wrong order… and if you’d known what was coming, you would never have done what was necessary.”

He didn’t want to admit she was right; although she probably was. “So I needed to stay with the colony?”

She answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

“Then tell me,” said the Doctor, leaning toward her. “What does happen to them?”

“Tell _me_ ,” River challenged. “When you think about them, what do you know that happens?”

“ _You’re_ an archaeologist.”

“ _You’re_ a Time Lord.”

Suddenly, he wanted to laugh. “We’re evenly matched, aren’t we? Right, then. I had a lot of time to think… about a lot of things. And when I did, I knew that Yurnef tore itself apart. Civil war went on to the end of the Fifty-First century, until the Shadow Proclamation eventually stepped in; some would say too late to save them. It will take centuries afterwards to rebuild their civilisation.

“And the colony… Their capitol city became popular around the same time -the end of the Fifty-First century- mostly because there were a few excellent restaurants basing their cuisine on ancient recipes. There was even a delicacy -a tea produced from native plants- also rumoured to be discovered when they first arrived…”

The Doctor stopped abruptly, realisation dawning. River began to laugh softly.

“Now, imagine if you hadn’t been there?”

“Some of my recipes were rather inventive,” mused the Doctor. “I wonder which ones lasted?”

“Oh,” said River, “you’ll go back to find out. It may take you a few hundred years, but eventually you’ll drop in to see your influence. After your visit, they’ll even name a blend of tea for your-“

All at once, she stopped talking. The Doctor wished he could see her; it was often so possible to read people through their posture, their faces. But there was only darkness here; no sight to rely on. And therefore, he also had to judge River's silence only by what he thought she could've meant. The words left unsaid.

“My friend?” he asked carelessly. “I suppose I would take one of them with me when I visit. I do make a lot of friends, through the years. And it will be hundreds before I return?”

She didn't say anything. Her hand, in his, seemed to tremble slightly; and the Doctor tightened his grip on it. Stroked his thumb lightly over the smooth skin of her fingers, and the roughened callus –from her blaster, he now realised- on her index finger.

“How many hundreds?” he asked quietly.

“I told you before that there are things I can’t say.”

“Yes, you did say that. How foolish of me to forget… how about telling me this, then? I suppose,” he said thoughtfully, “that in a few hundred years, I might be Scottish. And then our timelines would be where they’re supposed to be… should we say it's a date then, River?”

“Doctor—“

“Oh, I know what you’re going to say,” he said cheerfully. “You’re going to insist you can’t confirm anything. I’m too young. But do you know what happens, with every tick of the clock, each minute that passes, every hour?”

“No, what?” She sounded suspicious.

“People get older.” He leaned forward, finding River's lips as if by instinct in the darkness. She froze, trying to pull away from him but not succeeding. His fingers threaded through her curls, not letting her escape as he let his tongue tease lightly, darting between her lips and then withdrawing until she clung to him. River kissed him like she knew him, knew everything he could ever want or need. One hand crept up to cradle the nape of his neck; while their tongues tangled together with the occasional sharp thrill of her teeth grazing against his lower lip. 

They were both panting when he pulled away from her to press soft kisses on the tip of her nose, her right cheek, the sensitive hollow behind her ear and then smaller kisses down her neck, one more on her collarbone… The Doctor could feel the hitch in River's breathing as he pulled the neckline of her vest down, resting his lips against the soft swell of her breasts; feeling, listening… to two hearts. He could hear the quadruple beat racing, echoing his own.

He _loved_ it when he was right, when suspicions and guesswork resolved into full, bright Technicolor. She was a Time Lady.

The Doctor chuckled, resting his cheek against hers, temple to temple, opening a small channel of rapport between them. River sucked in her breath, trying to move away, but he held her close… letting her into his mind, but deliberately not searching any of her thoughts. Privacy; still a valuable thing, and especially for those who practiced telepathy.

“I told you,” he said softly, “I had a lot of time to think, back at the colony. And I _know_ , River. Did you think I wouldn't realise who you are? A mysterious woman in my TARDIS? Who can fly my TARDIS... and I think she may have a bit of a fondness for you, you know.”

River swallowed down a nervous giggle. “It's mutual.”

“I might be jealous of that; she certainly never reacts like that to me.”

“Oh, she adores you too. Just in a different way… I’m rather special to her. And no,” River said quickly, “don't ask how. I can't… there's so much to come for you, sweetie. No hints. I'm sorry.”

“But I suppose,” he said slyly, “by the time I'm Scottish then I'll understand everything?”

There was a very long pause. “I hate you sometimes,” River said in a low voice.

“No, you don’t,” the Doctor responded automatically. He may not have deliberately sought out her thoughts, but that one slipped through, clear as day and strong enough to encourage him to press soft, fluttering kisses on her chin, the corners of her mouth. He could feel her lips trembling, as though she was fighting the urge to kiss him back.

“I’m not usually one to say this isn't a good idea,” River murmured. “But you don't know me yet. You can’t know me-”

“Maybe it is early in my time stream,” he conceded. “But _you_ know _me_. Do you care if we're a bit…” He waved his hand around with a tiny shrug, forgetting that in the darkness she couldn't see him.

“It'll be like old times,” River said wryly. “Never in the right order... But sweetie, we do have a rule. _No rewriting lines_. We don't change this... us. I’m too early; I shouldn't have been here at all…” She sounded very sad.

“You won't remember this, later.”

“You can't know that,” the Doctor protested, ignoring that fact that if she was from his future, she exactly knew that. “Why wouldn't I? Who were your teachers at the Academy, River? Because even for us, there is a saying.” He might be a little rusty in High Gallifreyan, yet somehow the words slid past his lips with a wonderful familiarity.

“The hearts recognise the one who holds them.” He sighed, resting his forehead against hers in the darkness. “And from the moment you stepped into my TARDIS, I think I recognised you, River. For who and what you are.”

Bespoke; possibly even beloved. A rebel and a wanderer. A Time Lady unlike the others he knew; someone not content to watch, but to do. He could feel the centuries stretching forth between them until they’d meet again… and if he had to wait for them to realign, he was willing to.

But there was a part of him that craved _this_. The possibilities within one brief moment to sustain him, until then.

She didn’t say anything for a long time. His hands were flat against her back, feeling the double heartbeat against his fingers. Racing; her hearts were racing as he leaned slightly, imperceptibly closer. Her breath mingling with his, their lips centimetres apart.

“This is a terrible idea,” River said. But she shifted toward him even as she said it. The softness of her breasts pressed against his chest, the gentle brush of her mouth against his cheek, trailing over until they were kissing, again. 

He couldn't help his sigh as he roughly pulled her to him. Tugging off her vest, his hands wrapped around her ribcage, sliding up to cradle her breasts between his palms, fingers tweaking her nipples until she moaned. The Doctor didn’t bother to undo the clasp, only pulled the thin fabric of her bra down, so he could lower his head, flicking his tongue out by instinct to catch one, then the other and draw them into his mouth; bestowing on each a tiny bite, a sweeping circle with his tongue, then sucking hard enough to leave her gasping.

“Stand up,” the Doctor murmured, pleased when River scrambled to her feet. He couldn't see her in the darkness, but his hands were sure on the zip of her trousers, sliding them down inch by inch to reveal the smooth skin of her stomach and thighs, gloriously silky beneath his fingers. He buried his face into the dip of her waist, kissing down the softly rounded curve of her hip, letting his tongue trail over the crease of her thigh until he paused, his lips hovering over her slick folds. River squirmed, hesitantly pressing herself up to his mouth and making a whinging, pleading sound. 

“Hush,” he scolded. “I'm trying to see you.”

“In the dark,” she whispered breathlessly. “With your tongue?”

“See is the wrong word,” he admitted. He wanted to write her on his mind and hearts… River was so certain he wouldn’t remember this; but he wanted there to be some part of him that always would. Mental processes of the brain could be tricked, but sensory memories would last. The Doctor pressed slow, open mouthed kisses against her skin, spreading her open so his tongue could swirl and suck over that sensitive nub; marvelling that she tasted as exquisite as he’d thought she would. Musk and honey and time bursting over his palate… with the flat of his tongue, he licked slow even stripes to savour it, even as she began to writhe against him. 

The Doctor ducked his head lower, mapping the precise feeling of silken walls as he slid his tongue inside her. He couldn’t help curling one arm around her hips, letting his fingers splay over her arse before cupping it to pull her into him; even as his other hand came up, stroking at her clit. Quick firm movements, enough to make her breathing erratic, punctuated by gasps and cries as she rocked her hips forward against his mouth. 

“Please,” she whispered brokenly. “More, Doctor, please.”

She was close; he could feel the fluttering of her muscles intensify around his tongue, the heady scent of her arousal so strong… and then she let out a sharp cry. Her fingers were in his hair, tugging almost painfully; and the Doctor grinned, pressing soft kisses to the slick skin as she rode out her orgasm.

River’s breathing slowed, and then he finally moved; kissing up her stomach, between her breasts, standing up to trail his lips along her throat, the curve of her jaw. She made an impatient whinge in the back of her throat, pressing herself forward and kissing him, sucking his tongue eagerly into her mouth. Her hands slid down his chest before tugging insistently to loosen the waistband of his trousers; one slipped inside, her fingers curling around his cock. 

The Doctor hissed in surprise, his hips thrusting forward against her hand as she laughed, softly. He had been aroused enough from her taste, her smell; but now with her hand on him, sliding up and down his shaft… She swirled her palm over his head, sinking her fist back down until it was against his stomach and then back up. Too much. It was almost too much; and then she nibbled on his ear, her tongue sliding a hot trail down his neck that made him shudder.

“You have to… River, I can’t…“ The Doctor closed his eyes, turning his head by instinct to catch her lips briefly, managing to move away just enough her hand had to stop.

“I want you,” he murmured in a low voice, amidst kisses. “I want to be inside you, feel you against me.” He slid his hand down her back, over her arse before pulling her roughly against him.

“Hundreds of years, remember?” He managed to smile. “If I’m going to have to wait hundreds of years until I see you again, then for tonight, I want you. Right now.”

“You’re being impatient,” River teased. “There are benefits to the slow path.”

“Not tonight there aren’t,” said the Doctor, pleased by her soft laugher; and even pleased that she was being impatient, herself. Her hands were already pushing his jacket off, unbuttoning his shirt. She untied his cravat, pulling it loose; and the Doctor touched her hand, noticing that she’d looped the silk around her knuckles.

“You’re holding that like a hand fasting,” he observed absently.

River stilled. “Like a…”

“Hand fasting,” he answered, more occupied with unbuttoning his trousers, spreading his jacket on the dirt floor, than her reaction. “On Gallifrey it’s considered a wartime ceremony, but still binding. Marriage, you know.”

“Yes,” her voice sounded strangled, “I do know.”

It was her tone that made him stop. The Mystery of River, the Doctor reminded himself. For one answer –yes, she had two hearts- there was always another question. Why she would sound like that about a cravat… why her immediate reaction had been to hold it the way she was, and not just put it down… The Doctor grinned, scooping her up in his arms to deposit her on his jacket.

“Velvet?” River teased, as he lay down beside her. “You’re going to spoil me.”

“Maybe you deserve it?” he asked. He reached his hand out, finding the trailing edge of his cravat easily, and looping it over his own hand until their palms were pressed together. River sucked in a deep breath, not moving until the Doctor leaned over, brushing his lips over hers.

“Another few hundred years until I get the full story?” he asked mildly. “I’m sure there must be one. Something about being us being married? Hand fasted during wartime… or do I have that wrong? Care to correct me?”

“Shut up,” River said. But he could feel her smile when he kissed her, moving on top of her. Her legs were around his waist, and their bound hands pressed together; as he tilted his hips forward, sliding his cock inch by inch, into her tight, silky warmth.

It felt right. _She_ felt right, wrapped around him; and with a little sigh, the Doctor began to move. Withdrawing – rocking forward until he was enveloped back within her. For all their impatience before, this was perfect: the slow meeting of their bodies as their breathing came faster; the moment when they couldn’t hold back any more and their movements became more frenzied. River’s legs were clasped around him, her hips rising up to meet his eager thrusts as she moaned, her fingernails scrabbling on his back.

The Doctor wished he could see her. He could imagine it; her cheeks flushed, curls wild as her head was thrown back against the green velvet of his jacket. Her back arched up, breasts flattening against his chest; and the Doctor carefully shifted his weight so he could slide his free hand between their bodies, flicking his fingers quickly over her clit until her cries had a sharp edge to them.

She was writhing beneath him, clinging to him. He didn’t want to let go yet; the sensations were overwhelming, and he wanted to remember each one. Their hoarse breathing and moans of pleasure, the fine sheen of sweat built up between their bodies, as he thrust into her again and again, until River clutched at him, screaming her release. The Doctor shivered at the rhythmic clenching of her muscles around his cock, moving faster; a few more thrusts and he closed his eyes, his body shuddering with pleasure as the fingers of their bound hands entwined.

There was, the Doctor thought, something about this that felt like a dream. The darkness, the feeling of being utterly content. He couldn’t think of the last time he’d felt so peaceful… and as his consciousness drifted back from the slow, lazy aftermath of passion, River shifted slightly beneath him, kissing every part of him she could reach. His shoulders, along his neck, his cheek; their lips met briefly before she turned her head, her breath hot against his temple… and then she hesitantly pressed her lips there. 

A flare of telepathy, a moment of rapport. She had stayed so guarded against him that the heat from her mind surprised him; and then her thoughts gently nudged themselves toward him, shyly providing the answer to his question from the first time they were in the prison.

_:The only thing I can tell you is that something will happen one day. I won’t be there anymore. And yet you’ll always keep hoping. Holding onto my memory, trying to save me, even when there's almost nothing left…:_

River's dry mental voice hesitated before withdrawing slightly, and the Doctor sighed. It was hard to lie, mind-to-mind; that was why she'd tried to slip away when she did. But he had learned enough now. He could read the truth between her words, enough to relax and re-establish their mental connection, his mind offering a response back to her. 

_:You would never have let me fall and end in prison without being there to save me; because one day, I'll never let you go?:_

She didn’t answer. He didn’t need one.

“Who were your teachers?” he wondered aloud, unable to resist teasing her a little. “Tell that Scottish tutor for me that he ought to be teaching you our sayings, not just how to read Old High Gallifreyan.”

_:Future to past to present, River. The hearts recognise the one who holds them…:_

_:And therefore no one can be lost forever:_

She finished the saying herself; and he could her smiling then, her lips still close to his cheek.

“I know I shouldn't have said anything,” she admitted reluctantly. “It's spoilers. Our future... we don’t rewrite it, not one line. But I also know…” Her fingers petted restlessly at his back.

“I know you won’t remember all this.”

“You do keep saying that,” said the Doctor. “You’re so certain I won’t remember this at all… have I another ‘bout of amnesia coming on? It’s not an illness where I can relapse.”

She swallowed back a giggle. “Let’s just say that you do make a habit of selective memory,” she teased gently. The Doctor laughed, managing in one neat move to simultaneously roll off her, pull her into his arms and wrap them both in his jacket.

“Except,” he mused, “that it's difficult to permanently impair the memory of a Time Lord. You cheat, River. How do you know that I haven't? And no,” he continued, “don't tell me.”

Their faces were close together. He leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“I love secrets.”

“Liar,” River breathed. He could feel her grinning.

“Mysteries, then?”

Her low chuckle was her only answer as he pulled her even closer, his lips capturing hers in a kiss. Their future would come. The Mystery of River would be completely solved: who she really was, how their lives would connect. But for tonight, it was enough to hold her in his arms, his hands and fingers and lips restless over her body. Learning her: her breathy sighs and warm laughter, her intelligence and wit and humour in their whispered conversations between kisses. The stark darkness made it easy to savour each scrap of physical sensation, to try and bury memories of her so deep that River would stay written on his soul, forever. 

Morning came too soon for the Doctor’s liking. And this time, knowing the procedure of the guards, he didn’t even need River’s finger against his lips, cautioning him to listen to the footfalls, the scramble for keys above them. By the time the door opened and the guard descended the ladder, it was the Doctor prepared to knock him out, and then help River to climb out. She’d retrieved the wrinkled remains of his clothes, smiling fondly as he shook out his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

“You learnt from my example so quickly,” she teased. The Doctor shrugged, giving her an innocent smile.

“Perhaps you learned from mine? I’ve always been capable of escaping jails…Or maybe,” said the Doctor, “it just means that we’re evenly matched.”

“Oh, we are.” River grinned at him, slipping her hand into his as they made their way back to the TARDIS. The Doctor absently rubbed his thumb along her knuckles, down the length of her index finger. He didn’t want to let go of her. Not even to open the TARDIS doors (which, he didn’t have to. The doors burst open as soon as River put one hand on them, with a murmured: ‘hello’.)

But once they were inside and he’d navigated them back into the Vortex, River turned to him with an apologetic smile.

“I should be going, sweetie.”

The Doctor frowned. “I suppose you’re meant to get back to your own time. Your own Doctor.

“What if,” he blurted out, without meaning to, “I was selfish enough to keep you here?” 

River laughed outright. “You’re never _that_ selfish, Doctor. More’s the pity…but you knew that this was stolen time for us. Too early… but don’t worry. When it’s time for you to see me again…

“We always find our way back to each other.”

He didn’t want to be satisfied with that answer, but he had a feeling it was the only one she’d give him. Still laughing, River leaned forward to press a chaste kiss against his lips; but he pulled her against him. Revelling –and memorising- the softness of her curves against him, the faint orange and bergamot fragrance of her skin and her hair tickling his face.

“Are you sure I won’t remember you?” he asked, burying his face in her curls. Silky, springy… he concentrated on the sense memory. The next time he felt her hair against his face, he wanted to know it was familiar; even if he wasn’t entirely certain of why.

“Maybe I’ll surprise you,” he teased. “Maybe I’ll remember you after all. What makes you laugh, how we talk and work with each other. How you feel in my arms…”

River drew away from him, suddenly serious. Her eyes searched his; and then she raised an eyebrow, her lips twisting into a sly smirk.

“You cheat,” she said.

“We both cheat,” answered the Doctor promptly.

“Yes, we do. And the answer you want is _‘yes_ ’; isn’t it?” River sighed.

“Maybe you do remember some things, without knowing why you know them. After all, the hearts recognise the one who holds them?” She had lapsed into Gallifreyan; and the Doctor grinned at her funny dialect, the little Scottish twist on the ends of words and the lengthening of the vowels.

“Stranger things have happened,” he said.

“Especially for us. So then: until next time, sweetie.” River blew him a kiss, pressing buttons on her manipulator and flashing out of sight. The Doctor sighed, looking at the spot where she had just been.

“See you around,” he answered to the empty room.

The TARDIS felt emptier after she'd gone, as though even his ship was mourning her leaving. The Doctor threw his clothes into the TARDIS laundry and made a fresh cup of tea; and then dressed again, strolled back into the console room and switched on the gramophone. He sat down in his armchair, closing his eyes and listening to Pat Hodge's smooth croon. Without meaning to, he found himself singing along to the last verse.

“‘I called out your name, and in my dream you held me tight… funny how things seemed so right, in a dream.’

“But that wasn’t a dream,” he murmured to himself. “Interlude; that's the word I used before. A brief moment, binding us together. I suppose that I did think something unexpected would happen on this trip.” 

And it had. Saving a lost colony. Meeting River… and discovering that sometime in his future there would be another rebel of Gallifrey who would end up traveling the stars with him. A woman who was still a mystery, in so many ways… And he did love a mystery. Even if he’d have to wait a few hundred years to solve it.

_Although_. The Doctor sat up, brow furrowing as he tapped his index fingers together. According to everything she’d alluded to, seeing River again should be a few centuries away in his timestream… yet, he had a feeling that this meeting was only the first of many to come.

River cheated, too.

The Doctor grinned suddenly, picking up H.G. Wells’ Time Machine once more. “Nothing like a good book and a cup of tea,” he said to himself, settling back onto the plush seat of his arm chair, resting his feet on the ottoman with a small sigh as he listened to Pat Hodge crooning on the gramophone.

“At least until the next interlude starts.”


End file.
